Burn Wednesdays
by yesimadramaqueen
Summary: Every Wednesday I'll do my best to add a drabble/oneshot. Mike/Fi romance and other friendship pairings. All fluff, all the time. Enter at your own risk.
1. July 22

"Hello."

Michael didn't flinch. It was almost uncommon to come home and find the loft empty, especially empty of Fiona.

"Hi Fi."

He walked around to the fridge. When he opened it, he discovered that he was out of yogurt even though he restocked that morning.

"What happened to my yogurt?" he asked.

He looked over at her and a trademark Fiona "_I'm guilty_" smile was plastered on her face.

"I'm holding it for ransom."

He shut the fridge pointedly. He had a rough day and _wasn't_ in the mood to play games.

"What do you want?"

"Don't sound so grumpy, Michael. You can get it back. All you have to do is take me out on a date. By date, I mean to steal a shipment of sparkly new AK-47's. The kind that has-"

"No."

"Good luck finding your yogurt."

He started walking towards her. "Fi-"

"No."

He reached the bed where she was seated. She stood. They were just inches apart.

"Tell me where it is."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Make me."

They were just about to kiss when the door opened.

"Mikey, did you know that there's a basket of yogurt in Fiona's car?" Sam asked.

"Thanks Sam," Michael smiled.

He started out the door and Fiona followed.

"Am I missing something?" Sam asked himself as he watched them go.

Michael got the basket out of her car and looked towards the steps. Fiona was standing on them pouting. He hated it when she did that. Partly because she looked so sad and partly because it always, _always_, made him cave.

"What time does the shipment come in?" he sighed. She lit up.

"Tonight around midnight. I'm going without or without you."

"I'll go, but you're driving."

She grinned. "I knew you'd come around."


	2. July 29

"Sam," Madeline began.

He knew that tone. That was her sweet lull-you-into-a-false-sense-of-security tone.

"Yes Maddie?"

"I need you to do me a favor."

There it was. He set the level down and turned to her. She had one hand on her hip and the other brought a cigarette to her mouth.

"What is it?" he sighed.

"Don't sound so enthused to help me! You only blew up my house and I'm only letting you _stay here_!"

"No, you're _making_ me stay here to fix the damage!"

"You're splitting hairs!" she snapped as she blew smoke out of the side of her mouth.

"What is it you need me to do?"

"We're out of bread. I need you to run to the store and get some. I'd ask Michael, but he isn't returning my calls. What are the three of you up to now?"

"Nothing…"

"_Right_. Are you going to go get the bread or not?"

"Do you want me to finish fixing your house by next Christmas?"

She gave him a smile. "I'm a patient person."

"Fine. I'll go get some bread."

"The good stuff, not the cheap kind. We also need some eggs and beer," she added.

He started towards the door. "Okay…good bread, eggs, and beer. Anything else?"

"Cigarettes."

"Of course. Is that all?"

"While you're out, do you think that you could pick up my medications from the pharmacy? Oh and I need…maybe I should just go with you. We'll make a day of it. I'll get my purse."

He waited until she had left to scowl. He quickly smiled when she came back.

"Don't just stand there! We have things to do! I'll be in the car."

She rushed out while he grabbed the car keys.

"Blow up one house and this is what you get…" he muttered as he shut the door.


	3. August 5

"Fi?"

"Yes Michael?"

"I know that we're undercover right now…"

"We are."

"…but do your hands _really_ have to be there?"

"Yes. We're pretending to be a couple."

"I know, but we can be a couple _without_ your hands being where they are."

"Right here?"

"…yes…please put them somewhere else."

"Fine. There. Happy?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

…

"What was that for?"

"What was what for?"

"You just kissed me."

"I thought that I heard someone coming around the corner."

"What corner? We're in the middle of a park."

"Details, Michael. Details. You used to be good at being my boyfriend."

"But I'm not."

"We're _pretending_. That's what _pretending_ means."

…

"How was that for pretending?"

"Very good. I think you're learning."

"Thank you, and can you _please _move your hands? That's your final warning."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll take away your key."

"Please. I'll just break in."


	4. August 12

Michael sat in his favorite chair silently watching Fiona sleep. They had worked well into the early hours of the morning. About an hour ago, he made her take a break and she accidentally drifted off. He didn't have the heart to wake her, so he finished up their work alone.

He wasn't ready to go to bed at first. The energy from the instant coffee and ten or so blueberry yogurts kept him up. So, he just sat there watching her back rise and fall with every breath.

Quietly, he made his way over to the bed to pull the blanket over her back. He tried to do it carefully, but Fiona was a light sleeper like he was.

Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head off of the pillow. "Michael? What time is it?"

"Late. Go back to sleep."

"What work do we have left?"

"I finished it all. We should try to get some rest before we have to get up."

"You're right," she yawned as she rolled to the other side of the bed to make a space for him.

He looked at it and gestured towards the stairs. "I was going to sleep on the couch."

"The couch isn't comfortable. It isn't like we haven't slept in the same bed, or done other things…"

For a moment, he thought about arguing, but he knew that he'd just end up losing anyway. Might as well save time.

He climbed in beside her. She slid under the sheets too and tucked herself up against his side, burying her face into his chest. He put an arm around her and softly whispered, "Goodnight Fi."

She didn't respond. He looked down at her to find that she had already fallen back asleep. He smiled and shut his eyes, falling into a deep slumber just moments later. He always did sleep better when she was around.


	5. August 19

"Hi Mom."

"Michael, I need you to come over right now."

"What's wrong? Is it the toaster this time?"

"Not funny. I'm serious!"

"What is it?"

"My air conditioner broke!"

"It's raining outside, and it's the coldest it's been all summer. Besides, it's nighttime."

"I've heard cases of women my age dying of heatstroke when they don't keep cool! What if I die in the middle of the night?"

"I can't come over right now."

"Where are you?"

"In the car on the way to-"

"If you're in the car you can just swing by and take a look!"

"I really can't."

"What are you up to this time? Should I ready the house so it can be turned into a makeshift hospital, hide out, or interrogation room?"

"No. It's not work related."

"Then you can be late! I'm going to be up all night worried about this. It's hot in here!"

"It's seventy degrees! I'll be by first thing tomorrow. I promise."

"What could possibly be so important that you can't come by?"

"I have a date with Fi."

…

"Well, in that case, I guess I can wait until tomorrow morning. But you better be here."

"You changed your mind just like that?"

"It's the only excuse I'll accept, Michael."

"Don't get your hopes up. It's only to repay a favor."

"Sure it is. When are you two getting back together?"

"Goodbye, Mom."

"I have the right to know!"

"I said _goodbye_."

"Don't worry about coming here first thing. If you and Fiona want to sleep in-"

"I'm hanging up now."


	6. August 26

"I feel fine," Michael mumbled. The thermometer bobbed up and down with each word. "I don't have a fever."

Fiona folded her arms. "Don't be so stubborn, Michael. You're wearing a sweater _comfortably _in 90 degree heat."

"So?"

The thermometer started beeping. She grabbed it before he could get to it. A smirk spread across her face.

"101.1 degrees. You have a fever."

He grimaced. "I have work to do."

"So I'll call Sam and have him do it. You aren't going anywhere until this fever goes down."

"But Fi-"

"It's nonnegotiable. You're staying right here for the rest of the day."

"It's just a virus. There's one going around. I can keep working."

She laughed mirthlessly. "No you can't. Do you remember Mackenzie's outside of Dublin? You had the flu and we went in anyway. Your cough gave away our position and we were almost killed!"

"_Almost_ killed. This is just a simple meet, nothing strenuous-"

"That's why Sam can go instead. You aren't on your game. If something goes wrong-"

"I'm not helpless. I'm _fine_ and if I don't leave now, I'm going to be late."

He stood up and started walking towards the door.

"If you don't stay here and rest, I'm calling your mother," Fiona called after him.

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned towards her. "You wouldn't."

"You know that I would. She'd be _more_ than happy to come right over and take care of you."

He glared at her. She held her cell phone up. Defeated, he slowly made his way over to his favorite chair. She smiled cheerfully.

"I knew that would convince you."

He scowled. "You _never_ fight fairly."

"Where would be the fun in that?"


	7. September 2

"Oh man. I could _really _use a beer…" Sam groaned as he eased down onto the chair.

"When can't you use a beer?" Michael winced as he sat across from him.

"You have a point. This has got to stop, Mikey. Fi can't keep starting wars!"

He sighed. "I know Sam. This time it was a little…excessive."

"Excessive? _Excessive_? Come on, brother! That was overkill! Emphasis on _kill!_"

"They were doing bad things. She saw it and she reacted. …overreacted…"

"You think? First, she just happens to have explosives with her. She thinks, 'oh, well these can't go to waste. I know! I'll plant them on the flammable things in the warehouse where Michael and Sam are!' Next, she hits the switch, there are lots of pretty colors, and we have to jump out a window before we're blown to itty-bitty pieces! Then, and this is my favorite part, she charges into the place with a semi-automatic machine gun and starts bringing hell down on these guys while we're right in the middle of it!"

"You know how she feels about people who hurt kids."

"I'm not saying that these guys didn't deserve it. What happened to the plan? Remember the plan, Mike? She put us in danger! I have the bruises to prove it!"

"I get your point. She shouldn't have gone out on her own, or blown anything up while we were within one hundred feet of the blast radius."

"No, she shouldn't have. It's common sense! You don't make something go _boom_ while your team is in the building!"

Michael's phone beeped. He picked it up. "It's a text from Fi. She's going to be late."

"Let me guess…so many bullets, so little time?"

"No. There's a sale at Aldo."

"It's amazing that she can go from causing destruction to shopping for dresses in no time at all. I'd need a breather. You know…some time to reflect on the hundred or so people I just killed?"

"It wasn't that many."

"No, but it was close. When she gets here, you're going to back me up the she-shouldn't-do-that-again issue, right?"

"I'll tell her not to."

"Will that work?"

He smirked. "You know Fi. She won't do it again. Unless it's necessary. Or she thinks it's necessary. Or she's paid to. Or it looks like fun. Or she's given the opportunity."

"So that's a no?"

"That would be a no, Sam."


	8. September 9

He had seen them fight. Sure, they argued all of the time, but this…he'd never seen them do this.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Nate asked. He'd just shown up to the loft to talk about a job. He was almost hit in the crossfire.

"I tried. They told me to stay out of it!" Sam exclaimed. "It's kind of interesting to watch. I mean, I don't want to see them get hurt, but I always wondered who would win in a fight between the two of them."

They winced as they watched Fiona kick Michael into the staircase. He got up and tried to restrain her, only to end up back on the stairs with a thud.

"I say Fiona is gonna win," Nate commented while he grabbed a beer.

Sam laughed. "Nope. Mike will."

"How can you say that? He's way too high and mighty to hit a girl, especially _his_ girl."

"I've seen him hit girls! …bad girls. But I've seen it done! Besides, when it comes down to it, no one can calm Fi like he can. …or piss her off like he can."

She kicked Michael right in the chest. He caught her leg.

"Fi-" he attempted.

She slugged him across the face without a second thought. He let go and the fighting continued.

"I'm enjoying this way too much," Nate smiled. "My older secret agent brother is being clobbered by a girl half his size. She's vicious!"

"It's the Irish in her. For a little thing, she hits hard. Mike does too. I think the odds are pretty even."

"Do you want to make this interesting?"

Michael and Fi ran into one of the makeshift tables. A loud crash followed. Sam and Nate took a step back.

"I don't think it can get any more interesting," Sam sighed.

They slowly got up off of the floor. They exchanged glares that were sharp enough to cut through concrete. Fiona made the first move. He easily caught her before she hit him. At first, it looked like he was going to yell at her. Instead, he started more of a _nonverbal_ conversation.

"Okay, I was wrong. It just got more interesting."

"Gross! I don't want to see that!" Nate whined.

"When they fight, they fight. And when they make up, they _really_ make up."

"More like make out."

"How about we go to the Carlito and talk about that job? I have a feeling they aren't in a talking mood."

Fiona started pushing him closer to the bed where they toppled over, completely unaware of their audience.

"I'm going to be scarred for life," Nate grumbled.

Sam set his beer down and grabbed his car keys. "You and me both, brother."

_**I regretfully inform you that this is my final installment of Burn Wednesdays. I'm still going to be writing other fics, so keep an eye out. The weekly updates are simply too difficult given my work load at home, work, and school. Thank you to all of you who read, review, favorited, or subscribed. I hope you enjoyed reading these as much as I've enjoyed writing them. **_


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